


Matchmaker, Matchmaker

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Humor, Romance, Sexual Humor, Speed Dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: “You sell…what on Etsy?” Marie asked, leaning back in her chair, and Stein smiled at her in the strangest way, his mouth stretching out impossibly long over his face, as though something from a cheap horror movie.“Taxidermies of animal corpses. And various novelties from human remains.”





	Matchmaker, Matchmaker

Marie was considering writing a novel on the flimsy bar napkin that sat before her. It would be titled ‘Speed Dating is a Bitch’, and would feature such exciting anecdotes such as, but certainly not limited to,  _‘Why are you talking to me about your boil?’_ , _‘Oh, yes, your grandmother is a lovely woman- More pictures, oh, okay’_ , and _‘You just told me you didn’t go down on women because that wasn’t Kosher but then you ordered the pork chops’_. Of course, those were the mild ones. The story where she had accidentally gone on a date with an already married man who was just looking for a threesome was one of the shining stars, as was the time when she was asked if she had a sister and, if so, was she more attractive and could she hook them up.

Maybe she should just fall to the life of herding cats in various parts of America, traveling through the country with a slew of felines digging their claws into her flesh, keeping her warm in the cold freeze of her heart, and she would nourish them with her tears and-

Jesus Christ that thud almost made her swallow the entire wine goblet she had refilled and attempted to drown her sorrows in. Ever so attractively, she almost snorted half the glass, the other half spilling out onto the table and dripping dangerously slow to the edge.

The man who had sat in front of her made an amused sound and next thing she knew, the flimsy napkin that, potentially, could have been the start of her blossoming writing career was thrown atop the miniature river that threatened the holiness of her immaculately clean, dusty pink skirt.

“Graceful,” he commented, and Marie felt her cheeks warm as she looked up, taking in the smirking expression of the stranger as he effortlessly cleaned up the spill. “Truly, it was evocative of my 83 month old goddaughter.”

Marie blinked, doing the math in her head. “…you mean she’s six.”

“Closer to seven, actually.”

“Why didn’t you just say seven?” she asked, furrowing her brows. She had a feeling that this was going to be a chapter in of itself.

“Months are far more precise.”

“Why not just use days, then?” Marie inquired, looking at him evenly. His expression cooled, shifting into an almost impressive deadpan. He’d be a beast at poker, she assumed.

“Valid point,” he answered her with, and she snorted a laugh, a bad habit of hers she had been certain she’d squashed out completely. But instead of finding it disgusting, as all her dates had in the past, he merely looked at her with a smirk curling the edges of his mouth. It was the pause he took, the deadpan that made her laugh. Usually she was a tougher customer.

But something about him was just. . .magnetic. Maybe it was the facial scar. Women loved scars she’d been told. Men, however, usually didn’t, she thought bitterly, remembering the accident that caused her to lose her eye, leaving her with a prosthetic in its place.

The man before her scraped his chair over the floor as he leaned to get the wine, and she felt terrible for not offering but also somewhat irritated that he didn’t ask. Even though, technically, the wine was for everyone at the table, part of the fee of the dating night she’d signed up for.

“So, uh…what’s your name?” she asked, and he looked at her evenly, tapping at his chest where a crooked name tag was pinned, scrawling out…something in probably the worst chicken scratch she’d ever seen.

“M…Mein?” she asked, and he snorted.

“Stein.”

“Wait, seriously? How is your handwriting so bad?” she blurted out, her own nametag pinned to her perfectly draped shirt in a curly, elegant cursive, with a heart over the ‘i’. Marie blinked at him when he just shrugged, and she finally noticed that he had sat down in the chair so that he was facing the back, having turned the chair around.

What a peculiar man.

Marie took a drink from her glass, tapping her foot slightly in nerves that she didn’t exactly understood why she had. He was still looking at her, as though able to read her very soul through his achingly green eyes and-

Woah, nelly. That wasn’t part of the chapter of Speed Dating is a Bitch. SDiaB had no place for the poetics of beautifully glinting green eyes that regarded her from behind thin rimmed wire glasses, sliding down his nose slightly as he tipped his head forward. Get a grip, Marie.

“So, uh…Stein…um…”

“It isn’t an exam,” he told her, not entirely unkindly, though it struck her more and more that he wasn’t taking their encounter seriously.

“Yeah, I figured that,” she replied, tapping on her glass, scouring her mind. “So…um, what brings you out, tonight? To the event, I mean.”

“I was dragged against my will by my old college roommate who informed me that cigarettes do not count as general companionship,” he said, cheerfully, taking a big swill from the glass he’d poured himself.

“Lovely.”

“You’ve encountered him, as well,” he told her, and she blinked at him.

“…uh, when?”

“He was the previous man at this table.”

“Oh, god, that asshat? He wouldn’t stop staring at my- uh…” she cut herself off, looking to the side.

“Yes, that sounds like him.”

“Both of you are here?”

“He’s my warden for the night. Broke me out of the asylum.”

She felt her lips tip up at the edges. It wasn’t even funny, she told herself, but the way he delivered it made it seem that way. “Oh?”

“Mmm.”

“Well, I hope you’re having a decent night, at least.”

“Social interaction is a chore and a bother,” he said simply, but looked at her curiously. “You’ve been pleasant, however.”

God, she was glad the lighting was dim, else there was no way he wouldn’t notice the flush collecting over her cheeks and nose.

“Oh…thank you.”

He merely nodded and didn’t ask her why she was there. She didn’t much want to answer, either. How was ‘I don’t want to die old and alone surrounded by cats who will eventually feed on my flesh when my soul departs this world’ going to fly?

Okay, so considering the strangeness of the man before her, it would probably fly by alright. She relaxed slightly in her chair.

“So, what do you like to do for fun?”

“Various experiments.”

“Are you a scientist?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Of sorts.”

“That’s not much of an answer.”

“It wasn’t much of a question,” he countered, and she laughed.

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair…so, what do you in general? Anything interesting?” she asked, genuinely invested in what the answer would be. The man was…unconventional, certainly, but plenty attractive, with his square jaw and shaggy hair, and intelligent. Good company Decent conversation. She might actually get somewhere and not have to invest in several cat strollers-

“I sell petrified animal corpses on Etsy.”

The record scratched. Pause. Rewind. Hold up.

“You sell…what on Etsy?” she asked, leaning back in her chair, and Stein smiled at her in the strangest way, his mouth stretching out impossibly long over his face, as though something from a cheap horror movie.

“Taxidermies of animal corpses. And various novelties from human remains.”

“Human…remains?”

“Teeth, bones,” he said, casually, leaning forward toward her. “You have excellent teeth.”

“Um…thanks. My dentist says so, too,” she replied, laughing nervously and reaching for the glass of red wine before her to swallow it down. “You, too,” she said, and he nodded, as though it was a normal response. Marie swallowed another mouthful of wine. “Is there. . .anything _else_ you’re interested in? What’s your…profession?” she asked, hoping to get back to the easy-going nature of their previous conversation.Though, she had to admit, and perhaps Azusa would slap her silly for it, but he was still plenty cute despite it all.

“I’m a coroner,” he told her, leaning forward.

“Oh,” Marie replied, somewhat distracted by how intense his stare was.

No! Bad Marie. Bad, bad, bad. This was a bust! Wasn’t it? He wasn’t husband material. He sold dead birds on the internet. 

But…maybe Azusa was right. Maybe her standards were just impossibly high. So, he sold human remains online. No one was a saint.

Plus, the night was wearing down, and he was the only she’d actually wanted to keep talking to, even after that…weird tidbit of information. If not as a potential husband, he could certainly fill other spaces in her life. If Blair was anything to go by, maybe she should just do _nothing_ but hook up with semi-strangers. Blair was certainly happy with her situation.

Marie eyed the man before her. Certainly not bad looking. In fact, rather good looking, if she was being completely honest with herself. In a…weird, dorky way.

Okay, so she’d probably slap a saddle on him if she got to ride. Which was odd to her: she wasn’t used to finding men who looked like him attractive. In high school, she always went for the jocks, the guys who would give her their football jackets or their basketball jerseys. Stein, in contrast was in glasses and a button up with a notebook in his right chest pocket.

All he was missing was the pocket protector. But at the same time, his arms. Holy Jesus, his _arms_. They were massive. Like he could probably scale a building using just his fingertips. She could imagine what _else_ he could do with those-

No! He sold dead animals! And teeth. Marie tried to remind herself that most serial killers were charming. And why did she find him charming in the first place? He sold dead animals.

Dead. Animals.

She wanted to climb him like a tree.

“I’ll return in a moment,” he said, standing up and smoothly pushing his chair in. Standing up, he rolled his shoulders, and Marie couldn’t help but watch the way his upper arms pulled at his sleeves, his collar open and revealing the slightest sliver of skin, and, fuck, he was _tall_ , she’d have to _actually_ climb him and-

He turned around, making his way to the bathroom, and she could swear he was flexing his back from beneath his shirt as he walked away.

Oooh, he probably lifted. Oh god, he could probably bench press four of her-

She nodded absentmindedly, crossing her legs tight and shifting in her seat.

What was she doing? She was at the tail end of a bad stint of speed dating that had gone on for three months. OK Cupid had been a bust. MeetMe was full of fuckbois. Tinder was shallow. Maybe she was just lonely. He’d be decent company for the night, at least.

What did it say about her that this man was probably the only person she’s had real chemistry with in the past…too long.

And he sold corpses. Corpses! Lord, Azusa was right. She had the weirdest taste in men.

Marie fell back heavily, looking at the clock. Speed dating was probably a bad thing to call it, since it was a solid fifteen minutes and one could choose to remain longer if they clicked. The woman who owned the bar, Maaba, declared herself as a hopeless romantic when it all opened. Informed them that the event was to make matches.

Maybe the woman was a yenta in another life. Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match, Marie thought, closing her eyes.

Only to be surprised once more by the thud that indicated he was back at the table. “Jesus!” Marie said, snapping her eyes open and looking at him. Why did he get such a kick out of scaring the ever loving hell out of her?

“Would you stop that?” she snapped, and he shrugged, looking unapologetic before he reached for his glass of wine. Marie didn’t even think. “Careful,” she said, and he stopped just as the glass got to his lips, locking eyes with her. “I might have put poison in it.”

Stein stared at her and she stared back, the eyecontact going on for far longer than she would usually be comfortable with. And, after a beat, he downed everything in the glass, not even blinking once.

Was it normal to be turned on by a man drinking wine while looking at you? Maybe she just needed to get laid. How long had it been?

Depressingly long. Too long. Suuuuuper long.

She needed to stop thinking. The word ‘long’ was making her mind go down a trip that it really shouldn’t and she was bright pink by the time he set his glass down, a single dribble of red coming down his chin which he easily wiped away with his index finger.

And, as though she was in some weird, fucked up romantic comedy, the kind she would have complained about being too lewd to retain comfort but not lewd enough to turn anyone on, he licked his finger.

Oh. Oh god. She was done. She was weird. He sold animal corpses and teeth and bones and she would probably bone him in a heartbeat and-

“Say, would you like to see my bone collection?” he asked.

Frankly, she should get a pat on the back for just saying ‘Sure,’ instead of ‘only if yours is included.’


End file.
